Here’s a dream from last night.
The dream shifts when we get a rabbit. My girlfriend and I were young and dressed in seventies clothes, entertaining friends at home. I noticed our rabbit, which I hadn’t seen before. Soon, I’m talking about the rabbit with our friends. I pick it up and hold it, still interacting with people. I have a quiet moment with the rabbit and notice how small it has become: it rests comfortable in my palm, slightly larger than my hand. I’m holding it upside down, rubbing its belly. The rabbit is tickled and laughs, responding with surprising personality. I think of Thumper in “Bambi.”
Later, I find the rabbit nursing babies. I bring my girlfriend to see. We hadn’t known the rabbit was pregnant or even female. We’re charmed by the scene. My girlfriend is gone and I’m alone with the rabbit and her babies. The babies have reverted back to a larva stage and writhe in dirt and water. I watch, fascinated, then worry that some appear to be drowning. I scoop them up to dray land. As they grow, I see that there are now three or four of them (I can’t judge an accurate count), where there used to be more. I’m sad that I didn’t act sooner, but also think this may be the natural process, that not all births survive into childhood.
The younger bunnies are growing. I’ve outfitted the mother bunny in a dress. She stands in an accurately scaled dollhouse, still, watching proudly as I play with her babies. I them dress the young ones and put them in little rooms as well. More guests arrive and I return to the party.